


Stormy Weather

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mentions of past abuse, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley compare notes on weather in Heaven and Hell. Crowley learns a little more about how Aziraphale was treated, and there are many cuddles.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 248





	Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr.

“Here you go, dear,” Aziraphale said, handing over the cup of tea. “Nice and hot.”

Crowley peered out from under his pile of blankets, and stuck out his snake-tongue at the rain pounding down against the window. It's not as though they had anything planned for the day that had been ruined, it was more on...general principles, really. It was chilly and spring and raining and just _ugh_.

“Yes, dearest,” Aziraphale said, and ruffled his hair like he wasn't some kind of totally evil demon. _He was a totally evil demon_. Just. Retired.

Crowley contemplated sticking his tongue out at Aziraphale, but he really didn't want to chance cutting off his only source of hot tea, not to mention cuddles.

“This is exactly the rain we'd get in Hell,” he grumbled. “Always grey and drippy.”

Aziraphale made a face. “Oh, surely it's not that bad?”

“Well, no. The walls don't smell funny here,” Crowley conceded. “Although that might have just been Dagon.”

Aziraphale searched his memories. “I think it was at least partly Dagon,” he offered, and Crowley grinned.

“Oh, you should have seen her when it got properly damp. Specially hot and humid, not that it was hot down there much, not like you'd think,” he reminisced.

Aziraphale gave a little shudder. “Oh, I can only imagine,” he said.

“I don't know what you're all complaining about,” Crowley mimicked, sitting up and hunching his shoulders slightly, peering around in a pitch-perfect imitation of Dagon. “We're in _Hell_ for Satan's sake!”

Aziraphale laughed and applauded the impersonation. “Oh, you've caught them perfectly.”

Crowley turned, smooth and fishlike and utterly unlike himself. “There will be six extra hours of training for any demon caught drying themselves off! To do so is to deny your Hellish nature!”

“My goodness,” Aziraphale admired. “It's like I'm there.”

Crowley dropped the imitation and grinned at him. “They were quite the stickler.” He tilted his head. “Did you even  _have_ weather in Heaven?”

“Oh, goodness no, can you imagine? It was bad enough when Gabriel came down to Earth,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.

“I hope a bird shat on him,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale laughed, a wonderful rich belly-laugh that always warmed Crowley to his toes. He'd heard it an awful lot more since they'd become their own side.

“Oh, goodness, he'd have discorporated.” Aziraphale shook his head. “You think _I'm_ fussy?” He straightened up even further – somehow – and put on an American accent to try and capture Gabriel.

“Aziraphale! If you _must_ maintain this stupid little shop, can't you keep it clean! I've got dust on my jacket! It's _alpaca_!”

Crowley smiled – the imitation was good. Not perfect, but he could absolutely see it. “What a complete prat.”

“And the inkstains!” Aziraphale continued in his...accent which was definitely somewhere in North America, probably. “It's unbecoming to one of the Heavenly Host. Six raps on your knuckles, Aziraphale, and don't let it happen again.” He dropped out of the accent, and did what passed for relaxing. “Good heavens, I'd have been a smoking crater.”

Crowley wasn't smiling anymore. “He hit you?” he asked, in a voice he had learned to make very gentle.

Aziraphale finally looked at him, and cringed. “Oh dear. This is one of those things that isn't funny to you at all, is it?”

“'fraid so.” Crowley opened his arms and gathered Aziraphale close, more for his own comfort than anything else. Because it did comfort him, to hold his soft angel and cuddle him and love him and know that if anyone showed up to hurt a single hair on his head, Crowley would reduce them to a small dark spot on the carpet.

“It wasn't very bad,” Aziraphale said. “It could have been worse.”

“It should never have happened at all!” Crowley protested. “Hitting your hands, over a bit of dust and a stain!” He found Aziraphale's hand and brushed a soft kiss across his knuckles, turning to touch his cheek to Aziraphale's fingers.

“Sweetheart.” Aziraphale's voice held a smile, and he turned his wrist to cup Crowley's cheek in his hand. “It's all right. It's past.”

“It isn't all right at all, but I'll give you 'it's past',” Crowley grumbled, arranging them so he could get arms and legs around Aziraphale, a protective demonic cage for his bastard angel.

“It's all right now.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed him, and kissed him again, and kissed him a third time as the rain beat down on the windows of their sitting room. “I love you.”

Crowley closed his eyes and remembered to not discorporate. Aziraphale didn't tell him very often, not out of lack of love, but because it always shook Crowley to his core. It made him feel like a stone wall being unbuilt; not destroyed, but reduced to component parts, ready to be rebuilt even better. They were trying to ease him into hearing it, kind of exposure therapy so the next time Aziraphale forgot and told Crowley he loved him over lunch, they didn't have to stop time, wait for Crowley to be able to person again, and spend the rest of the day in bed.

“I love you, angel,” he said, and nuzzled Aziraphale's shoulder, the velvet of his waistcoat so deliciously soft. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”

“Yes, dearest.”

Crowley still didn't want to open his eyes, but that was all right. He had a blanket, and rain against the window, and he'd made Aziraphale laugh, and made him feel safe. Not bad, for someone who'd been kicked out of Heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [dietraumerei.tumblr.com](http://www.dietraumerei.tumblr.com)


End file.
